


well-deserved.

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Independence Day (Movies)
Genre: Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 13:56:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15535746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: The day after the apocalypse, David sleeps in.





	well-deserved.

David shifts very slowly in bed. He can hear rain outside, hear it pattering down against the roof and against the broad windows, and he fidgets just slightly, peeling off the sheets and the thick, fleecy blanket he’d dragged from inside some storage cupboard. The army base leaves them in cramped quarters, and he is on the top right hand bunk of a four-bed cell, slowly working himself awake.

It’s warm, wonderfully so, and he yawns against the back of his hand, dragging himself to the edge of bed. Dad’s bunk, beneath his own, is already empty, and the two soldiers they’ve been rooming with are also nowhere to be seen.

“Dad?” David calls, but there is no answer in the corridor - obviously, he’s already out in the mess, or something. What  _time_  is it? Groggy and uncertain, he rubs his fingers over his eyes, and he drags on his shirt and some shoes.

He jogs down the corridor, into the mess, and sees that it’s nearly empty. Jasmine and Dad are sat at one table, and he can hear his father speaking at length with Dylan, Boomer leaning against his thigh and looking up at him like he’s dreamt of hearing Jewish folk tales his whole damn doggy life.

David feels his lip twitch, and he slowly moves forward, sinking to sit beside Jasmine. Immediately, she slides a cup of hot coffee to him, and David groans his gratitude, swallowing a few mouthfuls of it the stuff down black as he tries the grogginess away from his eyes.

“What time is it?” he asks in a mumble.

“Nearly twelve o’clock,” Dad says, waving a disapproving index finger at him. “What, you think saving the world is an excuse to sleep the day away, huh?”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” David asks.

“Well,” Dad says, shrugging his shoulders. “You just saved the world. Seems a pretty good excuse to sleep the day away, no?” Jasmine laughs as David rolls his eyes, and she gently pats David’s shoulder.

“He was gonna,” Jasmine murmurs. “Steve stopped him. You looked like you needed the rest when you finally left the mess last night. Most of the soldiers are all out now, Steve’s helping rebuild in the city, but they want to keep us out here…” Jasmine trails off, and then her lips quirk into a teasing smile. “You and Connie were up really late, right?” David smiles slightly, and he sips again at the coffee. He thinks of Constance, thinks of the two of them sat across a table from each other and just talking, just talking about everything, for  _hours_  on end.

He hadn’t let go of her hand until they’d finished talking, until he’d  _had_  to go and drop into bed.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Where is she?”

“Working,” Dad says. “They want you to check in when you are awake. Need you for interviews, you know, that kinda thing. You get enough? You well-rested? It ain’t healthy, David, to go without sleep–”

“It was the  _apocalypse_ , Dad, I didn’t see you sleeping that much either!” Dad huffs out a sound, shaking his head, and David almost breaks into laughter. Why should his dad sto being persnickety now,  _right_? 

“Bah!” Dad says, and he turns back to Dylan. “Take this– Why is the dog like this, huh? He won’t leave me alone!”

“He likes you,” Dylan says, grinning. He’s a real cute kid. Kids, God. What a thought. 

“What does he like me for? I don’t like  _you_ , you big mutt,” Dad says. He punctuates the sentence with a scratch of Boomer’s head, and David suspects the dog does not believe him. “You, uh, you should eat something. You gonna wait until lunch?”

“Nah,” David murmurs, setting the mug down. “I’ll, uh, I’ll call Constance, and I’ll go wherever they are, eat with them.” He leans in, pressing a kiss to the top of his father’s head and patting Boomer’s, and he grins at Jasmine and Dylan each. “See you later!”

“Bye, David!” Dylan says, waving his hand, and David shoots him a thumbs up as he heads off down the corridor. After all this, it feels– Normal’s the wrong word. He  _knows_  normal’s the wrong word.

But he’d be a liar to say it doesn’t feel good. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Hit me up](http://dictionarywrites.tumblr.com/faq). Requests always open.


End file.
